Okay, first off— can you stop saying 'body' when you're talking about me?

[One hand's lifted, pressed protectively to the center of her chest— index finger prodding at her own sternum.]

I was still me.

[Her curled claws relax, flexing only momentarily as she slides around the counter at last to pull up a seat beside the sniper, bare toes curling where they press against the stool's lower support rung. She exhales once, shoulders slumping— leaning in by degrees.]

Wish I could tell you I had all the answers, Araña. Sometimes things don't make sense to me, too.